They'll Always Have Madrid
by SpecialAgentAMB
Summary: Tags to Jet Lag! My view of their one night in Paris. More of a friendship story with hints of romance towards the end. Enjoy!


_A/N: I couldn't resist… tags to Jet Lag! Though I think my story takes a different spin on things than most others posted did, but I haven't had time to read all of the new stories yet. I'm currently working on a second part to Sometime Around Midnight, but my muse came to me last night in the shape of this story. Thanks again to my awesome beta :)! _

_Disclaimer: Borrowing, not owning. But my birthday is coming up… (hint hint). _

**~*~**

Ziva leans against the banister of the balcony, closing her eyes and smiling as a gentle breeze brushes her hair away from her face and off of her shoulders. As she reopens them, she takes in the beautiful site before her. Their hotel is right outside the Plaza Mayor of Madrid, a huge square in the heart of Old Madrid.

A sense of de-ja-vu hits her. Little less than a year ago, she stood on a balcony like this taking in the beautiful view of the Eiffel Tower in the neighboring country of France. Things had been different then. She and Tony were still at unease with each other, though they faked comfort well enough. The turning point was that night, really, where their relationship went from partners-who-used-to-be-best-friends and on the road back to best-friends-who-happen-to-be-partners(-and-maybe-more?).

_Entering their (single, one-bedroom) hotel room, they look and see the single, queen-sized bed. It was a beautiful room, with a sitting area and a flat-screen television, a mini-kitchen with a bar, and a large bathroom, but that still didn't change the fact that it had only one bed._

_Ziva sighs and puts her bag down on a large, comfy sofa. "I do not want to hear you complaining about it later, Tony, so I will just take the couch tonight," She says, turning her back towards him and avoiding his gaze. She begins unpacking, searching for her comfortable cargo pants and a t-shirt and prepares to take a shower._

"_Ziva, come on. We've shared a bed before." She turns to look at him and he winks suggestively. "Hell, we've even shared a couch before if that counts for anything."_

_Memories flood back into her mind. Their undercover mission which seems like centuries ago, where they played married, very in love assassins. The nights they watched movies together at her, and sometimes his, apartment, which strangely enough seem even longer ago, though their mission was before that. The times he fell asleep leaning against her, trapping her against the couch. The few times she was unable to stay awake, finding comfort in the pillow that happened to be Tony's shoulder. _

_She stands there, trapped in her own memories, until he speaks and breaks her out of her spell. He senses that she's thinking too much into this, and has the overwhelming urge to reach out to her and hug her. But that would make things worse. That would cause her to slither back behind that wall she's built. "Come on, Zee. You know me."_

_She looks up at him and stares into his eyes. "But you do not know me. Not anymore. You do not know what has happened to me…"_

Somalia. After their shared apology in the men's room when Ziva first returned, neither of them had brought up anything relating to the few months from when Tony shot Rivkin to Ziva's rescue from the terrorists. Everyone acted as if they were all past it, Tony and Ziva especially. Both longed to have that relationship they once had, before all the complications. But it was impossible, at least until they, mostly Ziva, cleaned out the skeletons in their closet.

_They spend the rest of their evening in Paris in their hotel room, just talking. Ziva quietly recounts what had happened during her capture and torture, Tony solemnly tells her how he, and the rest of the team, felt when they were told she was dead. Tears flow from both of their eyes as they share their pain. Yet slowly, wounds begin to heal, and the more they talk, the stronger their relationship grows again. Soon enough, they are laughing as they recount the tricks they once played on McGee, discussing what they should pick up for Abby as a gift, and skirt around the subject of Gibbs and Jenny and Paris, avoiding the inevitable topic. _

_Finally, well into the night, they shove their empty plates from room service away from them, and exhaustion begins to claim them. "Ziva, you take the bed. I promise I won't complain too much on the plane tomorrow." He promises, and means it._

_Ziva rolls her eyes and smiles slightly. "Tony, we are both going to argue who takes the couch. You were right before… we should just share the bed."_

_Tony looks at her, surprised. While he hadn't been joking before, he certainly wasn't expecting her to agree, especially now. "Ziva…"_

"_No, Tony. We need to move past this, whatever this is between us. I trust you. I trust you more than McGee, than Abby, even Gibbs. Not just because you are my partner," She takes a breath and looks at him, tears threatening to break away from her eyes. "But because you are my best friend. I have never felt a connection to anyone like this before. I…" she closes her mouth, afraid to say the words that he had once told her. _

_She looks down, away from him, ashamed at seeming so vulnerable. Tony, knowing that she could still probably throw him down on his ass but not really caring one bit, takes a few steps towards her and wraps his arms around her, smiling as he feels her arms wrap around his waist. _

_They don't say a word to each other as they get ready for bed. They crawl into the bed and lay along side one another. They close their eyes as they wait for sleep to take them. But Tony's mind keeps moving, and his heart yearns to repeat to Ziva what he said to her when they were captured._

"_Ziva," he says quietly into the dark. He hears a quiet moan of recognition from her side of the bed. "I meant what I said… in Somalia. I couldn't live without you. I can't live without you."_

_He listens for her response, anything to let him know that she heard him. But still there is nothing. Disappointment and relief battle within his chest as he closes his eyes once more. But there's movement from the other side of the bed, and suddenly Ziva's long hair tickles the inside of his elbow as she rests her head on his chest._

"_I don't think I can live without you, either."_

And that was all there was to them in Paris. No romantic night. No deep confessions of love. No wild love-making under the stars by the Eiffel Tower. Paris was simply not their city. They only told each other what they already knew. And so the next day, and the next week, and the next year, they acted as they normally had towards each other, only this time, their actions were genuine.

Yet here she stands, on a balcony in Madrid during twilight, watching all the tourists begin to leave. She senses someone behind her, then next to her, as Tony leans against the balcony, closer to her than just-friends would be. She breaks her gaze away from the square, and look at her partner, who is looking at her. She slides her hand over his, and he moves behind her, leaning both hands on the balcony ledge around her, letting his chin rest gently on her shoulder.

They can't say they'll always have Paris. But at least they'll always have Madrid.


End file.
